“As you’ve seen, Sir Dermot, good folk have come from far and wide to enjoy my Yuletide revels,” Archie boasted, hooking his arm through Uncle Dermot’s and leading him away. “Come back with me to the hall and have a heather ale and some fine Highland victuals. There’s nothing I like more than a rollicking Christmas feast and cheer.
“The more the merrier, eh?” Archie looked over his shoulder at Breena and Grim, winking. Then he and Breena’s uncle disappeared into the shadows of the stair tower. “We’ll have a grand night,” his booming voice drifted back to them, “even if some misguided folk tried to talk me out of the celebrations this year!”
Grim and Breena just looked at each other, sure Archie’s last words were meant for them.
“Did he really say that?” Breena couldn’t believe it.
“He did.” Grim laughed and pulled her into his arms, kissing her. When he tore his mouth from hers at last, his beautiful gray eyes were amused. “To be sure, he believes the Yule feasting was his idea. Just as he’ll always think everyone in the hall this night came because they missed his celebrations of old. We’ll never tell him otherwise.”
He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her brow. “Will we, Breena-lass?”
“No, we won’t.” She smiled up at him, sure she’d never been happier.
“And you won’t miss marrying an Irish prince?” Grim didn’t look at her as he asked, but Breena sensed he was serious.
“I did wed a prince.” She touched his cheek, letting her fingers glide down over his beard, the silver warrior rings that made him look so fierce and bold. “I would have no other.”
“You humble me, lass. And”—he captured her hand, kissed her fingers—“you are a princess. I aye knew it.”
“You did?” Breena lifted a brow. She felt no different than before.
Except perhaps that she loved Grim even more.
“To be sure I knew.” He turned her hand, dropped a tender kiss to her wrist. “Did I no’ once tell you to ne’er forget that things aren’t always as they seem? And that even so, other things are just that? They are what they are, however we view them. No matter what happened to you, or e’er will, you are a princess.”
“No, that isn’t what I am.” She shook her head, smiling. “I am simply yours.” She slipped her arms around him, rising on her toes to brush her lips softly over his. “And there’s a Yuletide feast in the hall. We really should be there.”
“Aye, we should.” Grim took her hand, leading the way.
“Grim, wait…” She pulled back just as they reached the hall’s arched entry. “Do you think we can make every Christmas as special as this one?”
“We can try, my love,” he agreed, pulling her close for one more kiss. “We can try.”
Epilogue
THE GREAT HALL AT DUNCREAG CASTLE
A Few Nights Later
“Isn’t she a beautiful bride?” Breena pressed a hand to her breast, her gaze on Malcolm MacDonald’s new wife, Moira, as the older couple twirled and beamed, dancing to a lively pipe tune. “She glows with love for her husband.” She glanced at Grim, standing beside her. “He’s so proud to hold her in his arms, isn’t he?”
Grim looked at her, smiling in a way that warmed her to her toes.
“I know how he feels.” Stepping closer, he smoothed her hair back from her face, for they’d just finished a wild Highland reel. “Indeed, Lady Moira is a fine-looking woman. But she cannae compare to you.
“No one can.” He reached for her hand, pressing her palm to his heart. “You are lovely in more ways than I could name and looking at you now, flushed so fetchingly and with your eyes alight—”
“My hair is mussed and my gown rumpled.” Breena glanced down and brushed at her skirts, righting them. “We danced three reels and—”
He tugged her to him, kissed her long and deep, seemingly uncaring if any of the Christmas carousers saw them. Breena didn’t mind either, returning his kiss with equal passion, clutching his shoulders as the revelers swirled and reeled around them.
“I cannae get enough of you.” Grim set her from him, his intense gray gaze holding hers. “I crave you badly, hunger for every inch of you.”
“Surely not here?” Breena glanced about, pretending to be scandalized, secretly thrilled to know how much he desired her. “You are quite bold to say the like now, here in the midst of Christmas celebrations.”
“I would shout my desire for you from the hills.” He cupped her face, looking at her with heated appreciation. “Sweet lass, I’d call in trumpeters and drum-beaters to let the world know how much I love you.”